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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532820">stand guard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero'>ShowMeAHero</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (1990), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Amputee Eddie Kaspbrak, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Pregnancy, Trans Eddie Kaspbrak, Trans Male Character, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:55:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26532820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Go back to bed, Richie,” Eddie says, chest heaving. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Richie tells him. “I’m good, really, I’d honestly rather be here.”</p><p>Eddie huffs a half-laugh, leaning his face into his upper arm.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>it (1990) one-shots</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stand guard</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written based off a prompt i got on tumblr that read: <i>"I'm in love with your pieces involving babies, they're so dang soft, can I request trans!90s Eddie and Richie fussing over him <a href="https://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/post/629629511681605632/im-in-love-with-your-pieces-involving-babies">bc they're about to have a baby? Thank~"</a></i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Richie knows he can be a little bit of an anxious guy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes medication, and he goes to therapy, and he smokes weed, and he’s good. Done and dusted, he’s all set and just fine to go about his day. Every now and then, he’s hit with a particularly rough day, but who isn’t?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That being said, he’s had more tiny panic attacks in the last few months than he knows what to do with, and no amount of marijuana or appointments with his therapists are capable of stopping that. Every time Eddie feels sick, Richie’s terrified; Eddie feels faint, Richie nearly has a stroke. It’s overwhelming, and it’s probably the most frightening experience of his life. He’s excited, too, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s just— He’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>excited when the baby’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Eddie’s not so sick all the time, as happy as he is that Eddie’s having a baby at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie holds his breath so he can hear better, still lying in bed. Eddie had darted out of bed minutes ago without a word, but Richie hadn’t heard anything since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if he’s summoned the bad luck with his mind, he hears Eddie cough from their master bathroom. He’s already scrambling out of bed when Eddie starts to retch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie falls to his knees beside Eddie on the bathroom floor, dropping an arm around his shoulders to hold him upright. Eddie’s one hand grips the rim of the toilet tightly with white knuckles; softly, Richie strokes his hair back from his face, pressing his palm to his forehead and holding his head up for him as he spits weakly into the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go back to bed, Richie,” Eddie says, chest heaving. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Richie tells him. “I’m good, really, I’d honestly rather be here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie huffs a half-laugh, leaning his face into his upper arm. With gentle hands, Richie grips him by the shoulders and tips him backwards, until his back is against Richie’s chest and he can rest there, propped half-upright, supported by one of Richie’s arms. His free hand flushes the toilet for Eddie before he tears off a square of toilet paper to clean his face with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If this were you,” Eddie mumbles tiredly, “I’d be so much worse at taking care of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” Richie shushes him. “Don’t you worry about that, that’s nonsense. You take plenty good care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not when you’re sick,” Eddie tells him. He sniffles, then shifts to bury his face in Richie’s bare chest, hand fisting up in the drawstring on his pajama pants. His fingers wrap up and tangle in the strings, eyes focused down on the web he’s making. “What if the baby gets sick and— and all I do is freak out? You’re going to hate me—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the baby is going to—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Eddie,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie says, more firmly this time, taking Eddie’s chin in his hand and tipping his face up. “The baby’s going to love you more than anything in the world because you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eds. I’m telling you, it’s impossible not to love you, and you’re their dad. You have got nothing to worry about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie sniffles again. When he shifts, his shoulders shake; he tries to drop his eyes again, but Richie keeps hold of his jaw so he can kiss him between the eyes, right above the bridge of his glasses. His skin is slick and salty with sweat, tears smeared under his eyes. When Richie kisses him, though, he relaxes, shivering and slumping into his hold.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to go back to bed,” Eddie tells Richie quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie nods, kissing the corner of Eddie’s mouth before he stands. With one arm around Eddie’s waist and the other gripping his wrist, he hoists him up to his feet, keeps him steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, I feel terrible,” Eddie admits quietly. He lets Richie help him to the sink so he can rinse his mouth out and wash his face with cold water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should shower or something,” Richie says, combing his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-damp curls. “You look like shit.” Eddie glares at him in the mirror reflection. “No offense, baby. You know I think you look hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>I do,” Eddie murmurs. His eyes drift back to himself in the mirror, slipping down his own body. Richie slips behind him and runs his hands over Eddie’s sides, up and over the swell of his belly. Tipping his head back into Richie’s shoulder, Eddie sighs, letting his eyes drift up to the ceiling instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you do,” Richie amends. He kisses Eddie’s temple, getting a mouthful of hair for his troubles. Smiling, he adds, “The hottest guy alive is my husband, and he’s having my baby. You’d have to be crazy to think you don’t look good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be that as it may,” Eddie mumbles, smiling into Richie’s throat, “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you back to bed, honey,” Richie says, pressing a kiss to Eddie’s cheek before he turns him away from the sink. He all but carries him back to their bedroom, Eddie leaning half of his weight on Richie and Richie taking on most of the rest of his own accord, and lowers him as gingerly as he can back down on his side of the bed. He cups the back of Eddie’s head to guide him to rest it on his pillow, softly slipping his fingers out from underneath once he was laying down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Eddie tells him tiredly. He motions for the spot beside him, patting Richie’s side of the bed with searching fingers. “Your turn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, don’t mind if I do,” Richie says. He hesitates, looking over his shoulder, then says, “But maybe I should grab you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to sleep, Rich,” Eddie says, voice muffled by his pillow. He lifts his head a bit to tell Richie, “I’ll be okay once I’ve rested a bit. Come back to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie still hesitates another moment before he decides to take Eddie at his word. He can always get him crackers and saltines later, and medicine if he needs it, maybe, or he’ll need—</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Richie,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie says, as forcefully as he can manage. His glasses are crooked on his face, smushed into the left side of his nose from being pressed into the pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, alright,” Richie allows. He sits on the edge of their bed, leaning over Eddie to pull his glasses off for him. They join the rest of Eddie’s odds and ends on his nightstand in their regular spot beside his lamp; Richie snaps that off next before taking his place beside Eddie against the headboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie shifts into him automatically, pushing at Richie’s chest and his limbs until he can maneuver him into a position he considers comfortable. He winds his arm around Richie, belly resting on Richie’s, legs hooked up and bent around his, tangled up together. Richie kisses the top of his head, then closes his eyes there, burying his face in Eddie’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How you feeling?” Richie asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better now,” Eddie says, muffled, voice caught up in Richie’s chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need anything?” Richie asks. “Maybe I could get you some water so you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie,” Eddie interrupts him sleepily. “I love you, sweetheart, I really do. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>I do. But if you keep fussing over me, I’m going to gag you, honey, I swear I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie snorts, choking on a laugh that catches in his throat with surprise. He can feel Eddie’s smile where it’s pressed to his chest, proud at having made Richie laugh, so he clutches Eddie’s head in his hands and firmly kisses the crown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Richie murmurs there. Eddie yawns, jaw cracking over Richie’s heart. When he shifts again, his head ends up tucked underneath Richie’s chin, snug and secure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sorry,” Eddie says. “Just— Close your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie does as he’s told, tipping his head back into their pillows and letting his eyes slip shut. After a few moments of silence, he starts trailing his fingertips up Eddie’s back, slowly, then down again. He keeps tracing the knobs of Eddie’s spine as he begins to hum. It’s barely a tune, and he’s already falling asleep, but Eddie relaxes into him at the sound of it. Richie can feel the warm smile Eddie has pressed into Richie’s throat as he starts falling back asleep.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can (and should!) come chat with me on Twitter at <a href="https://twitter.com/nicole__mello">@nicole__mello</a> and/or on Tumblr at <a href="http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/">andillwriteyouatragedy</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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